


Bran's Mercy

by fuzziekit



Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzziekit/pseuds/fuzziekit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is rare Bran thinks on the past. He has so many years lived that mostly he focuses on the here and now and the future.  But sometimes the past comes back in emotional ways, especially concerning family.</p><p>Mercy is dying and there is nothing Bran can do about it. How far she has come from the time in Aspen Creek to here in the Tri-Cities. How had she entered his heart so fully that he would rip the world apart to save her?</p><p>This is their story... Bran's and Mercy's... their becoming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Mercy might be mated to Adam, but to his wolf she would always belong to Bran. Would always be his little coyote, who was tough and defiant, raised by a good friend because Bran couldn't trust his mate with someone he cared about who was more fragile than his grown sons."
> 
> From that one line we as readers learned just how much Bran loves Mercy, a gift from Patricia Briggs to us the readers of her beloved tales. 
> 
> And from that line I sought to find a story of my own. Bran's story of his love and care for Mercy. His view point of who she is and what she does and why he does what he does for her.
> 
> This is set near the end of Nightbroken, when Mercy is in the hospital, before... well spoilers. ;)

He stood looking in the small window to the bed and the unconscious figure there. _My little coyote._ Bran thought. He did not want to believe she was truly broken, but he was a practical man. When Samuel, his eldest son and a doctor, had called him, he was already in the Tri-Cities, already in the hospital actually. He had arrived after 'in-the-nick-of-time'. So often it was like that with her. 

 

*** 

 

The young dark blonde haired man walked lightly up the stairs of his home, a warm bottle tucked in his hand a cloth thrown over his shoulder. To a casual observer his steps looked light and unobtrusive, however, this was not the case. His eyes told a completely different story, a fierce amber color that burned. As he moved down the hallway to the open door his breath steadied and he seemed to let go of the anger that was held so close to him or at least tuck it tighter down. Once his ears picked up the soft tones of a Native American song, of the Salish language, he stopped and closed his eyes. He took in the soothing calm tones for himself. It was another moment before he took a breath and started moving again opening his eyes, now a far more sedate hazel. He paused in the doorway his lithe frame leaning on it as he looked in. 

 

His son, tall darker skinned with dark eyes and dark hair braided down his back paced across the room holding a shivering coyote pup. The soft song seemed to calm the lingering scent of fear that was in the room. 

 

“Have you deiced who will foster her?” Charles' voice rumbled. 

 

“Bryan and his mate have said they are willing.” Bran said softly. 

 

The pup's fearful sent increased at the sound of his voice and twisted to see him. He kept his pose casual nonthreatening Her topaz colored eyes looked at his face than down to the bottle he was holding. 

 

“Yes” Bran said lightly. “But you have to be a human for it.” 

 

The pup gave a small whine before burying her face in Charles' arms as he crooned softly to her in Salish. Bran waited. He would ask the questions when he knew the little one was being fed, when he held her and knew she was safe. 

 

Finally the pup, shifted, with little warning to Charles, who managed not to drop her. With a quick pace she was set on the changing table and able hands, that were the same skin color as hers tended to a small cut on her leg. She for her part gave a little cry and Charles continued to speak to her, this time however in Welsh. When she was in a diaper and in a small set of pajamas Charles brought the dark haired little girl over to Bran who was now sitting in a rocking chair. 

 

“Samuel was planing on stopping in after his shift at the clinic. He will be able to check her leg better then.” Charles said handing her to his father and watched as the younger looking man settled in with the baby and bottle. “She is fortunate that she can shift so quickly otherwise Leah would have taken her leg.” 

 

Bran closed his eyes as the anger surged up a moment before settling back down the little girl paused in her eating as it washed over her. 

 

“Shh little one, just keep eating You need to grow strong if you are going to run with us wolves.” He cooed at her, then to the other in the room. “I will have a talk with Leah about her behavior once this little one is settled.” He gave the chair a light rocking not looking up as his son moved back to the changing table to take care of the small first aid kit he had used. “Who besides myself asked you to come and check on her?” Bran asked. 

 

“I knew Samuel was at the clinic tonight and that you were working with Geoffrey with his control.” Charles responded. “So I thought I would take the evening feeding. When I arrived Tag was coming out the front door So I did not even hesitate as you spoke clearly to me to get here.” 

 

Bran was the Alpha of the pack and as that they listened to his orders. Both out of respect to him and the strength of the power that made him that. Also part of his magic allowed him to speak in the minds of his pack. He could not hear their thoughts but that was not always necessary “So, instinct” Bran said softly. 

 

“Yes,” Charles responded though that was not the intent. “When I entered the house I smelled her blood. When I reached this room Leah was snarling trying to get her out from under the changing table.” 

 

Anger was often companion to a werewolf. That was the reason he had been away at that time helping a newer werewolf with control of his wolf side. Another gift, the stronger, more dominate the wolf, the more capable of control and helping those with less control. That the pup had angered Leah was not surprising but he knew that whatever was done was not worth the loss of limb. He would have to find out from Leah herself why she had sought to harm a baby. He watched the little girls face seeing that her eyes were drooping and her feeding slowing. 

 

“Once Leah left.” Charles continued. “It took me five minuets to get her to come out.” He gave a little huff and sat down in the only other chair in the room. “Brother Wolf was not happy that someone had tried to hurt her.” There was a slight growl in his voice. 

 

Bran set the bottle to the side and shifted the baby over his shoulder giving light pats. 

 

“I also was not happy.” The rueful smile Charles gave his father showed how easily this little critter had inserted herself into their lives. It also was reminder of how separate his son's wolf was from him. Most werewolves found a blending and balance with their wolves. The base instincts of the here and now of the wolf with the long term and control of the man. Charles was different, he had been born. The only one of his kind. 

 

Bran knew that he would not be able to keep the pup here in his home, that he could not raise her directly. This had simply proven it. Leah was his mate and would in no way tolerate someone he could love that was so fragile As his mate she had access to his power as Alpha, the power to control and dominate other lesser wolves. So when he had felt the pull of his power from Leah as he made his way home, knew that she had sent away the person who had been there to feed the child, he had sent Charles. He should have done it sooner. Only his two sons could make Leah back down and she would not call on his power with them. Anyone else she would and they would have to listen to her. Some of the stronger more dominate might fight her at first but once that power had been called they would have no choice. 

 

When he had entered the house he too had smelled the blood and fear but also Charles. His son's presence was the only thing that had kept him from racing up the stairs in his simmering rage. Making the bottle had calmed enough of the Beast that he would not harm the pup to ensure she was okay. 

 

“Bryan and Evelyn will be back tomorrow.” Bran said softly and a small burp erupted from the babe. He simply raised an eyebrow before shifting her back into his arms and slipping the bottle back into her mouth. She seemed only to suckle out of instinct than actual need. “They should be able to keep her safe enough and teach her what she will need to live.” The suckling stopped and Bran listened to her soft breaths and steady heartbeat as he took the bottle away. 

 

“She is not a werewolf da.” Charles said cautiously. “She is a Native American shifter, a walker.”

 

“No she is not werewolf.” He gave a small smile. “But she needs to learn about her animal side and since there are no walkers anywhere that I know of that I can send her to,” he tilted his head and looked at her. “Mercedes Athena Thompson is mine to care for.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bran could feel Adam, he had since the moment of Mercy's injury. The rage, pain, sorrow and hurt all contained but there. Only one moment where it was almost let loose. Bran had felt that ripple and it had taken everything he had not to send the other Alpha the little calm he held onto, since Samuel's phone call. The moments you realize how much you love her and yet how fragile she is.

***

Bran had his feet propped up and for once was relaxing, reading a book or was trying to. His mind was on a conversation he had with Mercy that afternoon or rather a scolding. He had caught her trying to sneak away with his car keys. She was very quickly approaching driving age. Though still too young to take driver's education class she was wanting to try and drive on her own. He, as her now guardian, was left to figure out how to keep her safe in a metal box that went at a rate of speed no human, or werewolf, or walker could manage on their own perplexed to him. She, according to Samuel, was taking to driving it like a duck to water. That did not make Bran feel any better. One she should not be driving at her age and two the only way Samuel would know she was driving so well, was if he was helping her. It was a perplexing situation. When Bran had watched her check out his car, a Porsche, it was with the realization that she would gladly risk his ire and take it for a joy ride.

So he had goaded her.

When you wanted Mercy to do something, you told her not to. He had learned that quickly. He figured he could manage to keep the keys away from her and this would give him the opportunity to keep a better eye on her sneaking capability to get things out of his house. He was still convinced she was the shoe thief. Forty-nine pairs of shoes with only one of each pair missing. Somehow they had gone missing, sometimes two in one day. He knew she was behind it. Leah had been disparaging to one of Mercy's few friends. The shoes were at the time a little bit of overkill in his mind. They were very expensive, but there was no way for him to prove it was her. Her scent never entered the bedroom where the shoes were kept and he had never been able to find even one of them near where she was. Now it did not matter, it was long enough ago that it did not need to be dealt with.

Then there was her loss. When her foster mother Evelyn had attempted the Change. She wanted to be a werewolf like her mate, Bryan. She had not survived. Bryan had quickly followed her, suicide. Bran knew and when they found the body only a day after he drowned himself it was his task to tell Mercy.

There had been anger at the other man for his choice. How could he not care what it, that suicide, would do to the young girl? His young coyote pup, whose own mother was not capable of keeping her. Bran understood the aching loss of your mate. He had felt it strongly with Blue Jay, but his connection with his sons and his strength as an Alpha kept him from surrendering to it. Mercy apparently had not been enough. Part of him was understanding, the rest was angry. The little coyote was worth surviving for.

Bran had scolded her again today for attempting to sneak the keys though he was not certain how she had gotten into the house or even gotten them off of the hook near the door. If there had not been a bulge in her jacket pocket he might have missed it. Okay, her scent of guilt when she saw him was more of a give away.

Leah had been watching and took an amount of satisfaction in Mercy's discomfort at being caught. His mate knew better than to attack the pup out right but any reason to see the little coyote get into trouble with him caused her joy.

He tried again to focus on the book. And he grimaced, the book was not enough distraction from his thoughts. He closed it and set it down. It was then that he heard the growl of his Porsche’s engine. He was out of the chair and to the garage with speed. Just in time to see the car accelerate down the road. He let out a growl of frustration.

He started to strip and shift. There was no way his two feet could beat his four. How did she get in the house and get the key? The spare was in his office safely tucked in his desk. The main one was still secure on his key ring, now in a bowl in the kitchen. She would have had to pass the living room. When he had raced through the living room Leah was there. She would have seen Mercy. As he pushed his shift he gave another growl of frustration. Leah had either ignored her or helped her, knowing that no matter what there would be trouble.

As the shift ended, a lot faster than it should have, he was sure Charles would feel it if not Samuel. He started to move he knew he would find out how this happened, his mate could not hide that truth from him. His paws hit the snow as he left the road. Following it proper would not allow him to catch Mercy but he knew the road and knew where it would lead. He moved over the packed fluff with efficiency and speed. He would come out near the other side of the bend.

The bend, it would be icy. Bran added a spurt of speed. She was inexperienced behind the wheel, still learning and that was a sharper bend than expected. He had nearly careened several vehicles off the road there. He needed to get to her before.. The sound echoed in the dimly lit air and he altered his trajectory, the screeching of tires and crunch of wood and metal.

The next thing Bran recalled clearly was Mercy in the snow between his front paws. Blood spilled out from a cut on her head near her hairline. There was also blood along her mouth. His heart beat hard against his chest. That could just be a split on her lip. He scented the air and found it filled with smoke, burning oil and gas. He looked up and saw his Porsche wrapped spectacularly around a tree, the engine in flames. The driver's side window smashed and drag marks surrounded by paw prints in the snow and dirt. The emotions that ran through him were a jumble and the utter certainty now that his wolf, his Beast, truly did see her as his.

Mercy made a sound. Turning back to her Bran snarled this time out of sheer frustration and relief that she was okay. Fortunately, she averted her eyes once she saw his face and took a submissive pose. But then she closed them and gave a whimper of pain.

There was a car sound as his nose graced over her checking her pulse and breathing. The car stopped and boot falls echoed, followed by a soft swear word in Welsh.

_Samuel._ Bran spoke to his eldest son through his ability of mind speak. _Mercy is hurt._ He knew there was urgency in his voice but he did not care.

The footfalls slowed as Samuel must have seen him, standing over Mercy and was gauging how to proceed. 

The Beast looked up at Samuel, his son, dominate in his own right. One of the few that would not be killed in a blind rage, quickly averted his gaze and offered his throat to the superior wolf. Bran took a breath and managed to back away allowing Samuel approached cautiously. He was a doctor and would tend to her injuries, but Bran would stay close until he was sure she would survive as he would always do with his kin. 


	3. Chapter 3

Bran heard familiar footsteps coming down the hallway and turned, retreating to his solitude. He was informed after the fact. Samuel had called him after the x-rays showed her injuries. Unaware that he had already arrived in the Tri-Cities. That he knew something more was going on. That he knew it was not his son that was in danger.

If he had been faster could he have gotten to her before Guayota had. He seemed to be continuing to hand over her care to others. He was not sure how he felt about that.

***

“Hauptman” Adam’s voice came through the line crisp, clear and concise.

“Adam. How are you settling in?” Bran asked.

“Well enough sir.” His voice continuing his his professional tone. “The rest of my pack who wanted to move should be up in the next couple of weeks. Between who stayed in New Mexico and who joined here in the Basin the numbers evened out.” Adam spoke smoothly. “Fortunately.” There was a tightness to his voice though too.

Bran waited.

“Though I am not sure about the preternatural community here. I will have to send an emissary to the Vampire Seeth and the Walla Walla Fae reservation is relatively close.” He paused a moment and took a breath. “And then there are the random others.”

The dry words at the end caused Bran to smile a bit as he responded. “Yes, well... she is a little... persistent.” There was a snort for Adam as Bran continued. “But she normally keeps her head down.”

“Mercedes Thompson is a very difficult person to deal with on a good day.” Adam did not growl but there was something, Bran thought. A phone conversation was difficult with another wolf. They communicated as much with body language as with words. “She is currently working at a garage with a fae I think.” Adam continued.

At that Bran raised an eyebrow and questioned. “A fae?” He knew about the job at the garage but not the fae part.

“Couldn't quite get a good scent off of him and he isn't registered so I didn't push.” Bran had not gotten the name of the owner yet. Charles had checked it out and had not said anything to him. “What is his name?” The elder wolf said. “I have a bit more access to histories than the official channels.”

This time there was chuckle. “I bet you do.” Adam spoke even though he did not know that Bran was not referring to Charles. The old bards memory was fairly good with Fae names.

“Let me see.” Adam said and there was a flip of papers. “Ah... Siebold Adelbertsmiter.”

Bran managed not to slow his pen down or give an intake of breath but if Adam could have seen him there would have been no mistaking the shift of posture, nor the possible shift in his eye color.

 _Siebold Adelberkkriger ausdem Schwarzenwald?_ He was a dangerous advisory to the werewolves. Bran seemed to recall a tale of a certain Moor leading a merry chase through the Alps though he was one of the only ones to escape a gruesome fate. Bran would definitely check that out. If it looked like his little coyote was in danger. Bran paused in his thought.

“Adam I have a request of you.”

“Yes,” The other Alpha said with some caution.

“With your pack settling in the Tri-Cities, it would be more convenient for you to keep an eye on Mercy for me than continually sending another wolf into your territory.” Bran said carefully.

“To keep Charles from visiting the area I believe I can handle watching her.” There was a bit of sarcasm and Bran gave a little chuckle even as Adam continued. “If I recall the gossip correctly he made a few trips to Portland while she was there. And,” He drawled. “I seem to recall a few trips you took to her college to keep some more adventurous wolves off her scent.”

At that Bran gave a little sigh. _No one gossips like the Alphas._ He thought. “I will warn you that she is very contrary.” He added dryly.

“I am aware of that.” Adam responded. “I will watch out for her sir.”

“Thank you.” was the response and they hung up.

Bran knew the risk Adam might be taking but it was better than the alternative. When the younger man had taken on the task of handling the out of control pack in the Tri-Cities it was because Charles had been dealing with another problem elsewhere. Adam was the next most dominant wolf with the skills to handle the situation. He also had a pack to back him.

And though Samuel did have the dominance to handle it, he was not an Alpha, Bran would not have sent his oldest son even if he was home. Samuel was still hiding in Texas. Still playing at not being a wolf. He only would shift near the full moon, only let his wolf out then.

Mostly Bran left him alone now, or had Charles check on him. There was a real fear that if he thought Bran was watching he would run further or do something worse.

Bran had hurt Samuel by sending Mercy away from Aspen Creek. Back to her mother, into a world that knew nothing about werewolves or walkers. To a family that knew nothing about her. But despite his anger at her mother over that he could not risk the damage to her or his son over what Samuel had planed.

Samuel had wanted to mate with Mercy to marry her and to have a family. He believed that she as a walker had a better chance of carry children to term, a better chance of having children that would live longer. Werewolf women could never have children, the violence of the change was too much on the fetus and human women could only carry fully human children. As a coyote walker there was a possibility that she could carry a werewolf child because wolves and coyote could breed together and she did not need to shift like a werewolf did on the full moon. Nor was her shifting violent. So the possibility of children with a werewolf was appealing. Samuel wanted children very very badly, enough that he had courted and won the heart of a fourteen year old girl Bran had claimed to protect.

His son was not right for Mercy. He would try and protect her keep her safe from the world and she might even be able to handle it for a time. The two years she had spent with her mother had proven she could be a very good daughter. But she left the first moment she was able, left to find herself. Eventually, she would have chafed under Samuel and either broken free or broken under him. Bran had not been willing to risk either of them that way.

So he had sent her away, showing to her eyes that he had chosen Samuel. It had nearly broken him to do so. She had made her way into his heart as his sons had. Now she wanted nothing to do with him or any wolf that he might have sent her way to protect her. Adam would know that and would use the influence he had in a way that it would not look like it came from the Marrok.

Bran had lost Samuel as much as he had lost Mercy. However, there was joy from his Beast now. Joy that Mercy was under the watchful eyes of an Alpha he trusted was almost euphoric.

Mercy would always be his to protect even if it was by another hand, even if she did not want it.


	4. Chapter 4

Bran kept his eyes down as he walked through the halls of the hospital. He was holding on to his control, but he was not sure how well he would maintain that if he accidentally challenged some one.

When he had asked Adam to look out for Mercy it was with only the thought that there were some very nasty things in the city she had chosen to settle in. He had thought Adam could watch out for her, even with his pack, his then wife and his child. The other Alpha had even built his home next to hers to facilitate matters, to protect her. 

Now they were all here. Waiting for the inevitable. 

There had been other times that he had thought he would would loose her in a more permanent way. He wondered if he had called, if she would have stopped, would have fled... probably not.

***

“Don't do it.” He had told her when she picked up her phone, for all the world that those words would probably make her all the more likely to go and do what he commanded her not to, he still felt the need. The need to protect her. 

She for her part laid out logically why she was going to it it anyway. The fact that she would not leave the fate of Adam or his son, Samuel, to anyone else gave him some sense of pride. 

So he had hurried. 

Thinking about Mercy going against a demon posed vampire with another vampire as her back up was not something that would keep his wolf calm. So he had hurried to get to her using every once of control he had to help the people in the car. Daryl amazingly enough had control but the demons territory was hard on him. It did not help that the police officer who pulled them over was a little less than polite. 

Bran remembered a time more full of racism and he was fairly sure this officer would like a time closer to that, but a confrontation with a racist cop would not get them to Mercy and the others any faster. So he helped keep the dark skinned PhD calm enough not to growl or comment by interjecting a word or two of curious questions aimed at racial profiling and wouldn't that be interesting to end up in the news. They were sent a long quickly after that. 

When they reached the old church Bran could feel the tension even from his younger son. Charles had very good control as well. He had an absent thought of maybe that was a trait of a second in a pack. A balance of rage and protection but the the control not to feel you are better suited to be Alpha. 

The thought had left him as quickly as it came when a scream, reached his ears. Mercy. He moved, following the sound to a set of stairs that led down to a pair of doors. Daryl and Charles had just followed him, not questioning. The doors gave with a loud metallic screech And he had looked into the dimness, taking in the scene. 

He saw two wolves, one white with pale ice blue eyes and one silver with hot yellow eyes, near the edge of their control, flanking one tall lanky vampire with long black hair and fierce eyes. Another vampire stood to the side. The first three, however were protective of a figure behind them. 

“You're late Bran.” When she spoke he heard her pain and struggled with his own control for a moment. He only perused that Charles had spoken, a chiding of Daryl's need for speed. Once he did a mental check list he moved up, sending Adam and Samuel off to get changed and dressed. Then he moved to Mercy, the first vampire ceding to him, focusing on her and not the creatures near her. He would have ripped whoever hurt her to pieces if he had been here, though he was fairly certain that one was the pile of embers and ash that was drifting on the floor. He also wasn't sure which one that was still here was the enemy she wrote of. 

He knew he needed his control so he kept his tone neutral as he spoke. “You've been busy.” 

“No choice.” He heard the exhaustion. “Did you read the papers I left for you?” 

He had smelled, not fear, anxiousness and responded quickly and simply. “Yes.” And the anxiety dissipated. 

He could not wait any longer, he knelt down looking her over and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead, softly speaking so hopefully even the vampires that were close would not hear. “It was a damned stupid thing to do.” 

He was frustrated that she had not waited that they had not been faster that she was hurt but she did what she always did with the care he showed her. Set it to the side. “I thought you couldn't make it here until morning.” 

He managed not to smile as he said. “I hurried.” He touched her shoulder to reassure himself as much as her that this was real and she crumpled down further with a small cry. 

He called out to Samuel and waited, as things were explained, as the vampires came and took care of their own and as Mercy was tended to. 

The trip to the hospital to have her checked for any broken bones was a stark reminder to him that Mercy was not a child anymore. All four of the men in that truck would have killed with little hesitation if it meant she would be safe and he was the only one of them would was not romantically inclined. Bran had chosen not to push the vampire away though his sent was on Mercy in a way his Beast was struggling with. 

_He fed from her._ His Beast growled in his head. _And fed her._ From what Adam had relayed about what had happened Bran knew it was the truth. 

_It was necessary._ Was his retort.

Mercy never did like doctors visits that much but when you run with werewolves and you were not one you could easily get hurt if you were not careful enough. So in her younger years she got hurt a lot. Bryan and Evelyn had done well with her. And Samuel had protected her well enough in the couple years after their deaths. When he varied her in to the hospital it was with the calm knowledge that she was going to be treated well. And if her leg was broken she would have Samuel to watch over her. 

Bran found himself several weeks later sitting on a bench across from Mercy's garage, watching her. 

“She still has not figured out you come down here and watch her?” Zee sat down on the bench next to him. “With a nose like hers you would think she would have figured it out.” 

Bran did not comment. Siebold Adelbertsmiter, fae and Mercy's old boss, know as Zee to his friends and Bran, as well. 

They sat watching for a few more moments before Zee spoke again. “She is mostly healed. Even with the new injuries.” 

The stupidity of what Mercy had done after the night with the demon blazed though Bran's mind. She had hunted the vampire who had created the demon posed vampire “Marsillia the mistress of the seethe supposedly does not know, nor will she figure it out.” Zee continued, though he snorted before his spoke the next part. “If you want to believe the vampire Stephan.” 

Mercy had killed the other vampire because Marsillia wanted to have him create another one. Samuel had filled Bran in after the fact, but he got the impression that his elder son had not been informed either. 

“She was reckless.” The fae said finally. 

Bran grimaced before he finally spoke. “If anyone else had been involved there would be potential for fallout for them. Mercedes does not put others in danger if she can help it.” 

That was the truth. Mercy did what she always does, what she wanted. But she did not, more now than when she was younger, she never did anything that would intentionally her those she cared for. That was, as he believed, the reason she had not chosen between Adam and Samuel. She loved them both, cared for them and was cared by them. And Bran was not sure how to tell his son that Adam, despite the stark differences, was a better fit for Mercy. 

“Ja, she cares.” The old gremlin huffed. “She always cares for those she considers hers.” 

There was something in his tone and Bran slid a look to him. Older, balding, with a slight pot belly, wearing grease stained jeans, leather work boots and a faded flannel shirt over a gray tee, he looked memorable but not remarkable, though that was not his true form. As a fae, Zee used his glamor to hide what he truly looked like. And from what Asil, the Moor, had told him, it was impressive. But the iron kissed fae was looking at the shop and not at Bran as he continued to speak. “I wonder where she learned that.” 

Bran looked back to the bay door which now stood open, the dark haired young woman bent under a car hood, over an engine. He had made a choice so many years ago, she would always, no mater where she was who she was with or even whether or not she thought she should be, his coyote


	5. Chapter 5

Bran stood now at the door to a small room. The colored glass on the walls were back-lit so that they gave the room a rainbow effect.

He was not a spiritual person by nature. He left that to Charles. Not that he did not believe, there was too much proof not to believe. But normally he found that asking was pointless affair. He learned long ago that what was going to happen would happen. No matter how painful.

Today, however, he felt the need for some comfort.

***  
Bran lifted his eyes from the video he was watching for a third time on his computer, to the cup of hot chocolate that was sitting on his desk, then to the figure that stood behind it. Deep brown eyes looked at him intently, her mouth thinned, making her look slightly older than the assumed twenty; a bit closer to her actual age.

“Charles thought you could use some company.” Anna said in a light voice sitting down in the chair across from him. She tried to relax as she pushed a stray whiskey colored hair off her pale freckled skin, back behind her ear. He however could see and smell the tinge of her fear.

She looked at his eyes a moment before looking at the back of his monitor. “What are you watching?” She asked before looking back to him with raised eyebrows.

Bran shut the monitor off and closed his amber colored eyes. “The reason my son thought you should stop by and see me before we leave.” He had to get his Beast under control.

Anna helped, her being an Omega helped even more. She was a calming force. A wolf that he did not have to fight for dominance, one that he would protect and one who had the power to truly make his wolf rest. He breathed in her scent which now was calming down from fearful to cautious.

“Also the reason why he is going to Washington D.C. with Adam Hauptman.” She made it a statement and Bran chuckled.

“That is correct.” he opened his eyes now and watched the caution slip away to relaxed so he knew they were hazel once more. “It is what Charles would have done for you if he had met you sooner.” He said with a twinge of regret for his daughter in law’s fate.

She had been forcibly turned and then brutalized by her previous pack so that she would stay under the control of the Alpha and help his mate from going crazy. He glanced at the now black monitor. He had watch the video twice in it's entirety. Neither time getting any satisfaction from the ending. Anna had interrupted the third time.

That human had hurt his little coyote. He had forced a magical brew down her throat and forced her to desire him and more. Bran closed his eyes again feeling the low anger. “He raped her and would have killed her if he could have managed it.” Anna stayed silent as he spoke, waiting, knowing he was not finished. “I would have killed him myself if I could have,” and then softly, so softly that he wondered if Anna would even hear. “and be damn the consequences.” The lost of control, the Beast let loose on the world. Anna had seen the monster so she knew a truth. “I would do so for all four of my children.” At that he opened his eyes again and from the increase in heart rate, he knew his wolf was showing again.

Anna set her cup down and reached across the desk taking his hand despite or maybe because of her fear. “Mercy is strong Bran, she will survive this and she will be stronger than before.” Anna gave a smile and he felt the calm that she was giving him. “I know that once I found my family they made all the difference.”

That had been a nearly a week ago, right before he had taken Charles to the Tri-Cities to go with Adam to Washington, DC to give an accurate version of the video, not the partial that had been leaked. The partial that only showed Adam in a very movie version of a werewolf ripping a very dead rapist to bits.

Bran had stopped in to check on Mercy at that time, but she had been sleeping as a coyote with Honey Jorgansion, a beautiful golden wolf, of Adam's pack also on the bed. Honey had given him a questioning look but he shook his head, he did not want to wake Mercy, she needed the rest.

As he stood there a small whine escaped the little coyote’s throat as she moved restless in her sleep, starting to shiver. Samuel was suddenly at his side but it was the wolf on the bed who respond first and best. Honey leaned in, nuzzled Mercy and crooned softly until the shivering stopped and she settled down.

Now Bran was sitting in Mercy's home, his back against the wall watching her sleep again. He could have called and with all the other calls that had been made to him it might have been better. A coyote brought into a Pack of wolves, not just fostered but true pack bound by magic.

_If I had known it was possible...._ Bran let that thought trail off there was no changing the past.

He had decided not to call though. His need to see her had overridden his common courtesy.

Samuel was not home, otherwise there would not have been a guard on her porch. Benjamin Shaw, had watched as his car approached, cautious and ready as he parked but had stiffened to a more tense pose when Bran had exited his rental. The young British werewolf knew him and knew some of the relation between the Marrok and Mercy, but there was always tension when he came around.

“She is sleeping sir.” Ben spoke softly, just over the crunch of gravel that Bran's shoes made. Bran gave a nod and went inside, not saying a word. The other wolf would not challenge his right to be there. And he did have the right.

He moved through the house unseen, heard, or smelled to her bedroom. He had stood over her fighting the urge to tuck the blanket around her. The only thing that had stopped him was the thought it would wake her up scared. He had sat down then to watch her, to keep her safe. Adam's pack, her pack now, needed to be remind, if subtly, who her family was. Her heart rate picked up as she seemed to wake slowly and she rolled to her side taking a stick in her hands. Mercy was his.

“There's no need for violence.” he said referencing the clutched stick.

She would always be his.


	6. Chapter 6

Bran walked down the center aisle of the small chapel room. He sat down on one of the hard wooden pews. Looking at the simplistic image in stained glass. A patronizing picture of a sun cresting a horizon with a path leading to it. He remembered a time when those windows were more ornate and told a story, but this was a hospital so he supposed they were looking for hope. Narrowing his eyes and shifting his view to the fake plastic tree in the corner he smelled the leaves trying to drowned the other smells of antiseptic, drugs, death and loss.

****

Bran stood looking at the charred remnants of Mercy's trailer. She had loved that home as small and run down as it was. From what Samuel had told him she had made it her own, scraping together what she could so it was livable. Now there was not much left. Adam's pack had sifted through the wreckage looking for something anything that had a connection to her so that through magic they could find her. Nothing had survived.

_She is missing!_ The Beast within him had raged. _She could be dead._

There was a sorrow so deep in him that he knew it was not Adam's. Being that close to the Columbian Basin Alpha reminded Bran of his own loss of his mate, Blue Jay and how he had mourned and raged. Anger had almost taken him when she had passed. Adam was fairing only slightly better.

His wolf had decided Mercy was his and would brook no arguments. Bran decided he was right though a lot later than his darker half. Now she was in the hands of some evil fairy queen.

_Not dead. I would now if she was dead._ He raged back to his wolf. He would know, they would know.

He turned, pulling his coat in on him, looking at the piles of snow covering small pits of rubble or shoved to one side or the other. Closing his eyes he reached out again through the bonds he had made with the Alphas. He was their Alpha and as his rights so were their packs. He felt past Adam, skirting around the edges of the rage, anger, and sorrow that festered there.

_No need to poke his wolf._ He continued feeling along the bonds.

_But it would be so much fun and the blood of the fight._ His wolf responded.

_And it would hurt Mercy._ Bran retorted. The good of the wolves was not always something his Beast understood, even in the best of times. He felt along the bonds and she was there but he could not touch her, could reach her. He let out a low growl and the wind shifted. He smelled fae behind him. Stiffening he started to turn.

“Please don't turn around.” Her voice was soft and the scent of fear permeated the air. “I thought I would look again for something but then I saw you...” Her voice trailed off.

“Ariana.” Bran spoke softly so not to startle her. “It is good to know you are doing well.” The last time he had seen her had been after his then pack had attacked her, injured her. His son, Samuel had tended to the wounds that they had inflicted. There was the light crunch of snow but it stopped as he heard her heart beat pick up and the scent of fear increase. He waited a moment before a couple of steps quickly retreated.

“I had hoped I could approach you but...” Again her voice trailed off.

“I am a very scary monster.” Bran responded.

“More by instinct for me than smell or sight. You feel so... safe.” She said, slightly bewildered. “Most wolves don't feel that way.” There was confusion there. “I thought you had died. Samuel thought you had died.”

“I am anything but safe.” He tamped down on his Beast pushing it back becoming more and more human like. “And in a way I was dead.”

The memories of his dark time drifted passed, but he did not let them linger. Those would be the perfect way to bring his wolf out and around Ariana that would be a bad thing. She was a fae with a dual nature. Tortured by dog like creatures so much that a darker side came out in her. One that now would rise up in panic and a take to drive away a threat. Werewolves, were too similar to her tormentors to not draw that darkness out. The fact that she had approached him alone, Bran scented the air again,searching.

“Samuel is up at Adam's house.” She responded to his movement. He nodded at that. Samuel had been searching the area where Mercy had entered the fairy queen’s realm. Apparently he had brought Ariana here. “Adam...” The scent of fear increased.

“You should go home, Ariana. Tend to your grandson and I will see what I can do for Adam.” He said finally weariness dragging on him as he opened his eyes. “I had brought some things with me...” He started.

“Samuel had me try and use my magic to find her through them but they were not her's.” She paused and Bran nodded. “One was very definitely a gift.”

He took a breath and started forward, to move away, to give her space and himself space.

“Samuel spoke of how she reacted when he told Nemane you would declare open war on the fae for her, as you would for either of your sons.” She spoke rapidly, drawing him to stop.

Nemane was a someone who killed among the fae. She was an assassin sent out to dole out justice if needed. She had been prepared to kill Mercy for trying to help Zee when he was in jail for a murder he did not commit.

“I hurt her.” He said, brushing aside what could be another tie that if lost could bring out his pain.

“Yet you continued to protect her though. Did you ever tell Samuel that you followed his wolf when he traveled to Portland?” she questioned.

There was a rise of his Beast. _She is ours. She will always be ours. I had the right to make sure she would not be hurt._ Bran had to struggle not to turn around to face her, to question how she knew this.

“I called Charles.” She said to explain, tamping down on her own fear by taking another step away from him and continued in a rush. “I could not even get a word out to speak to him. Anna came on the phone and I was able to ask the questions through her.”

Of course Charles knew. Bran tilted his head.

“And Samuel mentioned that you would had put her first, when his wolf had taken charge this last month. You would have killed him to save her.”

Before Mercy had been taken by the fairy queen she had played shield between Bran and Samuel when the younger’s wolf had stepped up to keep from suicide. Samuel had given up on life, his wolf disagreed. There had been a moment where Mercy had managed to tell Bran what was going on without telling him, but not before the old wolf had let it slip how much he cared about her, that he would save her even if it meant killing his son.

“I would have done it for all the people here.” Bran stated. “A wolf in charge could leave a lot of bodies and that is unacceptable. If he had been anyone but who he is a lot more people would have died. Mercy included.”

“Yes, Samuel is a special man and wolf.” There was a softness in her voice. “But she is the reason you would have ended his life. Not everyone else, not even the rules you have set in place would have forced your hand if you thought you could have saved him.” Her voice softened more. “I could feel the connection between them but she...” And there was a trailing off again.

“She would not be able to be what Samuel needed. She was not who he loved for always.” Bran said turning his head slightly to catch her form out of the corner of his eye. She stood a bit back looking away from him.

“It is hard not being jealous.” Bran could hear the smile in that statement more than see it. “I am going to wait here for Samuel.” Ariana's voice was soft and Bran turned his head back to the house as he caught her movement to face him again. “Try again with the cars. Maybe...”

Bran gave a nod and started towards Adam’s house once more. It looked over Mercy's land and the feeling of despair seemed to cling to it.

“Fathers are a bit harder to draw off of.” She was speaking just as softly as before with the crunch of snow under his feet he was not sure if he was meant to hear her. “I am sorry there is no possibly to get close enough to even try.”

_I am her Alpha's Alpha, not her..._ but his Beast stopped that thought.

Adam's grief and fury ripped through his pack ties. Bran had an absent thought of what he would have to do if Mercy was truly lost to them. It would not be easy. He would not ask it of Samuel. Charles could and would if he asked, something in this made Bran aware it would have to be him as uncomfortable as that might be for everyone, there was no other way in his mind.

He bypassed entering the main house. There were many wolves there trying to help their Alpha in what they felt was a grief of death he had not accepted. They were not what he needed to focus on. Heading down to the lower levels of the pack's den he smelled others. But they were retreating smells.

The lights were dim, illuminating only the barest parts of the open room, he stood in. Bran knew the only way to help Adam was to find Mercy and get her back. There had to be something, anything. He stepped to leave, to head up stairs to Adam to try again to calm him enough for Ariana, when a reflection of light caught his attention. He looked and saw a walking stick. Old and beautiful, dark wood with a silver handle.

_Mercy's walking stick?_

He walked to the couch it was sitting on and looked at the stick another moment. He was not sure. Was it the one she had in her bed with her when he sat watching. He would ask. Picking it up he wrapped his hands around the wood and it was like an icy wind surrounded him. Then he was there with her, feeling her, knowing her and the other magic surrounding her, his wolf gave a low purr, but the joy of finding her override everything else.

“Mercedes.”

His pup.

“Here you are!” Bran spoke to her breathlessly.

“Finally.”

His coyote.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite to write... enjoy.

Bran's mind rolled over all of who Mercy was, who she could be. With everything that had happened to her over her life she could have been hard, worn and bitter. She could have but didn't. She was loving, honest and true to almost a fault. Despite her family, both by blood and by choice.

There was another person now sitting across the aisle from him, a scent so familiar but also incredibly different that it brought Bran's Beast up. He kept his focus forward on the colored glass even though his attention was on the other man.

_What if she had known about him before? What would she have become?_

****

Bran gave a frustrated grumble and tried again. His tux was impeccably pressed, clean lines and a crisp shape. He needed to look perfect.

“So, how did you manage to convince Marjorie that giving Mercy an actual wedding was a good idea?” Samuel's voice drifted casually into the room.

Marjorie Thompson, short spunky and as ruthless and resilient as any Alpha. And the mother to his coyote pup.

“I lost the bet.” Bran responded.

Samuel snorted and walked fully into the room. Bran watched him in the mirror. He was very definitely his son. Unlike his younger son, Charles who took very much after his Salish Indian mother, Samuel looked like a rougher slightly older version of him. The sandy blonde hair was cut in a less clean look. His pale blue eyes held age and weight that rarely showed in Bran's unless he wanted it to.

“Yeah, the bet.” Was what Samuel spoke crossing his arms over his chest.

The bet was one Margi and several others of Mercy's family had accidentally started. Mercedes was not what one would refer to as a girly girl. She was a jeans and t-shirt mechanic with bruised knuckles and grease under her fingernails. So planning a wedding for family and friends was not something she was going to do with any sort of enthusiasm. And when her mother took over planning it things went sideways. Deer in headlights had a whole new meaning when weddings were discussed around the bride to be.

So the bet was born. How long before Mercy would bolt to Vegas with Adam in tow.

“And does Margi know that when you surrendered your bet it was under the false presumption you had picked an earlier date?” Samuel asked, raising his eyebrows.

Bran brought his focus back to his task as he tilted his head and glared at the tie, yanking at it, he grimaced.

“Really?” He queried and he started over with the tie. “She thinks I picked an earlier date than her?”

He had found the guilt sooner than Marjorie even though he had upped the stakes quickly. Maybe it was the emotions he was feeling from Adam or even Samuel when they talked about her. Or the playful torment her sisters were pulling. He decided to help Marjorie find it in her to plan the wedding anyway and one of the only ways that was going to happen was to remove himself as competition.

There was always going to be strain between them. He was the other parent. He was the one who made most of the decisions about her care and well-being. She never blamed Bryan or Evelyn for how Mercy was raised, it was always Bran, the Alpha of that pack. Then she blamed him for the pain of sending Mercy back. So he was the only real obstacle to a wedding that Mercy really did want.

“I know from a credible source you picked this coming Friday.” Samuel responded, his face still impassive.

_Charles._ Bran thought, then corrected himself. _More likely Anna._

“Hmmm.” he shook his head and pulled the tie off with a growl.

“May I help? Samuel asked finally. “I always have a hard time doing that on a short mirror too.” It was an inquiry, not a demand. No thought of weakness.

“I taught you how to do this.” The younger looking man said with a glare at the tie in his hands.

“Which is why I am so good at it.” His son now approached him and took it. Gentle efficient surgeon’s hands straightened the strip of fabric and placed it around the neck.

Bran knew why he was so out of sorts, but it was not anything he wanted to share with Samuel. His son had seen the discussion, been there just in case things got a little more heated than was necessary but Bran had known he would win.

_“You threw her away.” Zee's words cut into him. “Sent her to a world that would never accept her. You do not deserve the honor of giving her to another.”_

Bran's anger had flared then. With Samuel standing right there he could not go into the why. Even though Samuel was now with a woman who could love him equally, Bran knew putting into words the reason he sent Mercy away was for her as well, would hurt. He had also just managed not to snarl a response, regarding the harm that came to Mercy when she had sought to help the iron kissed fae, to get him released from jail. Released from murder charges. They both knew Mercy and both would have rendered the world to protect her from that.

“There.” Samuel took a step back and looked at his handy work. “She is almost ready. We should probably get out there.”

Bran turned to face the mirror and looked at his tie. His gut clenched. “I will follow you.” He said smoothing down the front of his tux as he buttoned it. He heard Samuel's footfalls and turned to go as well.

_What is she really wants Zee to walk her down the aisle?_ Bran's normally confidant mind was bring doubt. _Or her step-father, Curt?_ He stepped up behind Samuel hearing the words spoken to a beautiful bride. _What if she wished it was Bryan?_

Bran looked as Samuel kept her facing forward. Speaking in her ear distracting her from who was behind her. Not as though she needed very much distraction. She truly was surprised and the scent of her overwhelming emotions filled the space.

When his son stepped away to reveal Bran, he finally spoke. “Zee thought he should have the honor...” She turned to face him and the joy that amplified in her eyes made his Beast croon. “But I told him I had prior claim.” He just managed to finish and he saw the tears start to well.

_Yes, she is mine but first to keep her from being humiliated._ He internally braced himself as he guided her into the church. “Before you start feeling overwhelmed by how nice we all are to do this for you, you really should know a few things. It all started with a bet...”


End file.
